Teachers and professors who have ever entertained doubts about whether what they do has a positive, lasting impact on students' lives would have found clear affirmation of their calling if they had attended a memorial service last weekend for my former journalism professor and college newspaper adviser at Rider University.

It had been 33 years since Willard E. Lally, who died last month at age 96 in Lake Wales, Florida, had set foot in a classroom. Yet his bond with dozens of former students, dubbed "Lally's Kids," held fast decades after his retirement. He kept in touch with many of us until nearly the end, via email, phone calls, Facebook posts and personal notes. Many visited him on vacation trips to Florida. And he visited many of us during his frequent treks north well into his eighties.

More than 50 former students and faculty turned out at the memorial service to celebrate his life. The service ran nearly two hours as his admirers took turns trading humorous and poignant stories about him as a professor, mentor, cheerleader and human being.

I was fortunate to have had many excellent teachers and professors during my high school and college years. Two stood out from the rest: my journalism teacher at Westfield High School, Walter Clarkson, and Mr. Lally. Both had high standards. Both kept students engaged. Both knew their subject well. Both motivated their students to do their best. Both were passionate about the First Amendment, fairness and accuracy. And both truly cared about their students. You could tell they weren't faking it.

But their styles and personalities were worlds apart. Clarkson was a Dartmouth-educated patrician — handsome, refined and measured in speech and manner. Mr. Lally wore plaid sport coats that were two sizes too big. He had an awkward, yet endearing dramatic flair. His arms flailed wildly when making a point, often punctuated by stomping his foot. His lectures made full use of pitch, tone and volume. His voice often spanned two octaves — in the same sentence — and when you were least expecting it, he cranked up the volume to 11. Falling asleep in his class was not an option, not even for an 8 a.m. news writing class after a long night at a Trenton bar.

I often have wondered what separates the Lallys and Clarksons from other good teachers and professors. A tribute offered to Mr. Lally by Richard Willever, who succeeded me as editor of the Rider News, provided some clues: "(He) was many things to all of us. He was wise and kind and funny. Most importantly, he was a good person. He had that quality that seems so rare today. He was selfless, caring and honest. He believed people matter. There are so many things to admire and remember. But most of all, he was a good person."

Willard E. Lally portrait shot taken in the 1960s.(Photo: Rider University archives)

For many of us, that's what stood out the most — even more than his unwavering advocacy for the campus newspaper's editorial independence from the school administration. That took considerable courage, particularly during my reign as Rider News editor in 1968-69, when student activism had peaked. We wanted it all — not just an end to the war, coed dormitories, a seat on the Board of Trustees and a strong voice in policies affecting us.

An anecdote at the memorial service that perhaps best exemplified Mr. Lally's genuine goodness told of his devotion to his wife Terry, who died just months before Mr. Lally. She had suffered a stroke four years earlier that left her totally paralyzed on one side, and she was forced to move into a nursing home. Mr. Lally moved in with her to ensure she was getting the attentive care often lacking in such facilities. When former students sent him goody bags filled with cookies and other sweets, he would never eat them in front of her because she was on a feeding tube and couldn't eat solid foods. He didn't feel it would be right for him to enjoy something she could not.

Willard E. Lally and his wife Terry at their Florida nursing home.(Photo: Greg and Kathy Kepics)

Those who attended Mr. Lally's memorial service last weekend, and those who could not but offered heartfelt email tributes to him, were testament to his legacy. His diaspora included distinguished journalists, educators, lawyers, communication specialists and others who benefited from their association with him in countless ways. When he retired, he passed the torch as newspaper adviser to one of his former students, Pamela Brown, who eventually became Rider's journalism department chair. She continued Mr. Lally's commitment to student press freedom, journalistic ethics and his mantra, "Accuracy, accuracy, accuracy!"

She was just one of the hundreds of students whose lives were made richer by a great teacher and a great man.